My dreams aren't... just dreams.

Growing up, I lived in a 1 story house with my mother, father, and sister (along with other few tenants). The house was owned by my aunt, so it made sense to stay there with low rent until we found ourselves steady to move out on our own.

Well... this house always had strange things happening in it. Stories my older cousins, that used to live there, spoke of ghost sightings of a man in a suit and a top hat gliding across the front yard at nights when the moon was clear.

My mother had her things misplaced in the strangest places like a scissor in the fridge, or the remote on the other side of the house. What really did it for my mother was when she was resting on the couch, the entire couch shook violently, but stopped as she hopped off. (No, it wasn't an earthquake)

Anyways, it goes without saying this house was evidently haunted, but nothing malicious ever occurred and we figured the ghost was friendly.

But, then the dreams started flooding in after we moved out. See, the house still served as somewhere my aunt and mother ran their home healthcare business office and allowed tenants to rent out the other half of the house.

As soon as we moved, I began having these vivid and ever so real dreams. I was always running from something in the house and these dreams occurred more frequent when the house was in the market to be sold. Dreams of running away from the house began to manifest to walking out into the neighborhood with all the trees and plants dying. These dreams kept occurring and all I associated with the house was death. The dreams progressed to a more real memory now forcing me to wake up panting and sweating.

Then, the last dream. This time, it was peaceful. I walked with a man from the house and down the street. He wore the same suit and top hat. He spoke with much to say, but I can never remember what. What I do remember was him trying to explain how he died. We walked further and further down the neighborhood until we reached a house. In this time, my surroundings were that of the past with vintage vehicles and pedestrians in their century old clothing. We stopped at the house and looked at me intently as he pointed to the house.

That was my last dream until the house was sold, and the dreams never recurred. I must've been around 10 years old at the time everything happened. I'm 24, now and just a few years ago, I decided to retrace the steps and route the man took me in. I found it... The same house, but more modern and walls now block the estate, but the mansion soared high for me to just sit in my car in awe staring at something impossible. It was the same exact mansion... And his death had something to do with it.

But, there's so much more than just this. Let's just say my dreams aren't just dreams. They're omens.